


Do We Have a Deal?

by InWater



Category: Repugnant (Band)
Genre: Drabble, Gen, POV Second Person, criminal for hire au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:53:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25230442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InWater/pseuds/InWater
Summary: You go to see a man in a bar and maybe talk business.
Relationships: Mary Goore & Reader
Kudos: 4





	Do We Have a Deal?

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written in February of 2019, for some sort of ... AU? Headcanon? I can't remember exactly.

You come to him looking for a quick solution to an annoying little thorn in your side. Entering the Redroom, you spot Mary easily, back against the far wall, nursing what is no doubt a lukewarm and mostly flat beer — the cheapest they have to offer. He’s eager to help, as always, needing only a name and the promise that you’ll make it worth his while. 

“Can’t we take this somewhere a little more... discreet?” 

You sit down across from him and Mary leans forward. Green eyes sweep from one end of the bar to the other and back again, landing on you.

“What’s wrong? Feeling a little shy?”

He leans even further in, voice dropping.

“Don’t worry. You can tell me, you can whisper it in my ear if you’d like.” 

The implied _if you think you’re being watched_ hangs heavily in the air, just enough to calm your rising frustration with his incessant teasing. 

He rests a hand on your elbow, coaxing you in from across the small, slightly sticky table. You feel a little nauseous. Maybe this was a mistake. What if coming back time and time again every time you run into a little unwanted attention is becoming a crutch? Hell, Mary himself is known to be into some less than savory business. But then again, you’re confident you can handle him. Over the past few months, you’ve committed his little quirks and tells to memory – and he, yours. He seems to have a knack for identifying when you’re almost at your absolute limit for his bullshit and backing off before your frustration with him can come to a head.

You plant both hands on the table and lean up to him, the necessary name and location almost painful to recount. His fingers travel slowly up your arm as you speak, in a gesture that might have been soothing had you been in any other bar with any other “friend”. When you pull back, a rough hand on the back of your neck stops you from getting too far. 

He looks you up and down, eyes half lidded, gaze flickering down to your mouth. The anger running through your veins threatens to bubble up and boil over. Biting his lower lip, he tilts his head and moves in, stopping an inch or so before he makes contact. Your face grows hot. Your hand twitches before balling into a tight fist. 

When he lets you go, he laughs, collapsing against the back of his booth. A low, rasping sound that you can barely catch over the din of the bar around you. 

“Just kidding.”

His lips curl into a lopsided grin.

There’s blood in his teeth.

* * *

After you've made your little deal with Mary, you kind of.... forget about it, if you're being honest. Just the idea that someone even wants to do something to make your life a little less harrowing has taken a massive weight off your shoulders. In fact, you don't remember until the exact moment you're stepping into your kitchen four weeks later. The lights are on. Coffee pot's plugged in. 

Mary's at the table. 

"Hey. 'Bout time."

There's a gash above his eyebrow and his nose looks like it may need to be reset (again), judging by the even more nasal tone to his voice and the bruises already blooming around his eyes.

"Check the basement. Brought you something."

He smiles.

There's still blood in his teeth.


End file.
